Sam and Crowley
by madelinesticks
Summary: It was accidental, at first. Sam would have the phone in his hand before he'd really thought, would have dialed the number with a blank expression. He didn't like Crowley. How could he? He certainly didn't trust him. He wasn't stupid enough for that, not after Ruby. - Sam/Crowley pairing. COMPLETED. Set just after season 7's finale.
1. Chapter 1

It was accidental, at first. Sam would have the phone in his hand before he'd really thought, would have dialed the number with a blank expression. He didn't like Crowley. How could he? He certainly didn't _trust_ him. He wasn't stupid enough for that, not after Ruby.

But who else was he going to call? Not Jodi. She deserved peace. And Garth was… Garth. Charlie had disappeared. So had Chuck. And everyone else was dead. Dean. Cas. Everyone left him. It was his fault, he knew. He was sorry. So sorry. He would give up everything if they could all live. He thought about it, for a time. But one, torn-up soul only went so far, and he doubted any demon would have the juice for it.

And he'd actually relaxed a little, hearing that deep, slightly hoarse voice at the other end of the line. But then… He'd got stuck. Hadn't known what to say.

Crowley had known. The demon had mocked him, teased him.

Sam ended up calling again, the next night, but this time it was on purpose, when he found himself staring longingly at the handgun, loaded on the bedside table.

Crowley had just shown up after the first ring, this time, holding a bottle of Craig in one hand and two tumblers in the other. Sam had stared at him, wide-eyed and kind of… Well, terrified.

But Crowley had settled at his side, poured him a glass of the strong, amber liquid, and just started talking. Sam didn't really take much of it in. The demon just spoke of Hell, how they were cleaning up the Levis, and other stuff that just didn't register.

When Sam woke up, the next day, he was on the bed. Still dressed (though his boots were over by the door, he noticed) and atop the covers. His untouched glass of Craig held a note to the bedside table, next to the gun, written in a comfortable cursive Sam hadn't seen before. "_I'll be back tomorrow. Try to stay alive 'til then."_

Rather than sign with a signature, or an "x" or something equally expected, Crowley left a well-inked sigil on the corner of the post-it note. Momentarily, Sam had an absurd visual of the demon keeping them in his jacket pocket, and chuckled to himself. Then he started thinking about Dean, and tried to go back to sleep.

Crowley did the same thing that night. Coaxed Sam to sleep with his voice, oddly melodic, the hunter thought. Well. Ex-hunter, considering how he'd sort of given up with hunting for the time being.

It went on like that, for a while. Sam wasn't keeping track of days. He zoned out and missed hours, and suddenly weeks had passed and he hadn't noticed. He didn't surf the web, didn't watch the news. He just stayed inside as much as he could and tried not to break apart. Crowley didn't come back, for a time.

He found himself on a bridge, next. Somewhere in Idaho. It was cold, frosty. He was teetering on the edge. And then Crowley was there, and he was inside, and Sam was wrapped in a blanket. Warm, woolen. The demon was scolding him, maybe, something about Hell. Sam didn't listen. Just slept.

—-

Now, when Sam fell asleep to the sound of Crowley's voice, he didn't wake up atop the sheets of his motel bed. It wasn't a motel bed, anymore. It was a well-furnished apartment, the bed comfortable, mattress firm and blankets soft. Sam was under the covers, half-naked, though his boots, unsurprisingly, still settled near the door.

It was getting a little easier, he thought, as he looked at the demon that was leaning against the doorframe, watching Sam with a glass of Craig in his hand. Just a little easier.

—-

"We can't keep doing this, Sam." Crowley murmured, one of his hands going to Sam's shoulder. The taller man didn't move, still on the edge and looking down at the expanse of rock below.

"Why can't I?" And his voice was cracked and hollow, and Sam thought he saw the demon wince. "Why won't you let me?"

"Let's go home, Sam."

Sam turned back to look at Crowley, pressing his thumb hard into the palm of his other hand.

"My home was with Dean." "I know, Sam." Crowley grasped his wrist in a strong grip, making them appear back at the apartment.

"In the Impala. It used to be just us, really. Dad was supposed to be there, but he never was, really. He was still with Mom."

"Mmm-hmm." Crowley nodded as he moved forward, undoing the zip on Sam's jacket and pulling it off him, laying it across the back of a chair. He reached up to begin undoing Sam's shirt buttons next, as the human shivered in front of him. Sam was soaked to the skin. Crowley was unsure how long he'd been out there, but it was certainly for longer than the demon would ever have liked.

"And- And we were OK, me and Dean.

"Dean and I." Crowley corrected reflexively, laying the shirt over top the jacket. He gestured for Sam to remove his own undershirt, hands going to the buckle of the Winchester's belt.

"Dean and I." Sam repeated dutifully, still trembling as he threw his shirt to the ground. "We were OK. But then I left. And- And-"

"It's alright." Crowley said it quietly, in as soothing a tone as he could muster. "I'm here." The boy looked like he was fit to sob.

"But you're a demon though. I shouldn't- I shouldn't be here." Sam's boots were over by the door, had been since Crowley had brought Sam home. He stepped out of his jeans at Crowley's indication, toeing off his socks and stepping out of his underwear.

"You're safe here, Sam." Crowley said, taking Sam's hand and leading him to the bed, pulling back the covers and gently pushing Sam down.

"Can't trust you." "Sleep, Sam. It'll do you the world of good."

Sam nodded, drowsily, and obeyed.

—-

Sam came awake with a loud yell, sitting ramrod straight up in bed. Almost immediately Crowley was there, soothing him, stroking over his shoulders. "Hush, hush, you're safe, you're here, you're alive, you're fine." He kept up a litany of words, just until Sam's breathing slowed down and the ex-hunter relaxed.

"Now. What was it, love?" Crowley was wearing tartan pyjamas, Sam noticed. Momentarily, he thought maybe Bobby would find that funny.

But then he remembered that Bobby was gone.

"It- It was Jess. And she was in the Cage. Wi-with me and- and Lucifer."

"Jess was your girlfriend. Before." It didn't really sound like a question, but Sam nodded anyway. "Y-yeah. What he did to her, Crowley, I-" Sam trailed off, mind flooded with the images. Of Jess' blood. Jess' body. Jess. "I don't want to talk about it."

He lay back down, still trying to calm.

"When I was a lad," Crowley murmured, looking at the bigger man. "I grew up in a fairly little village. And my Ma- she was called Alva. She was a very intelligent woman."

"Not like me dad. He wasn't very bright at all. A tailor - I took on the same trade, of course, but I did so in the city; better business - and he knew his work well enough. But he was just a right pleb, you know?"

Sam really did relax then. It was easy to forget, when Crowley started talking, started telling him stories. He hadn't heard anything about Crowley's time as a human yet. He liked to think the other was opening up to him. Trusting him.

He couldn't remember when they'd started sharing a bed.

But he liked it. He liked Crowley being close to him.

"But of course, at that point he was absolutely convinced that my brother was possessed - he wasn't of course, it's obvious now. And so he took us to church. Now, this church… I can still remember the carvings on the font."

Sam liked Crowley, really. He liked his voice, and the lines of his face, and he liked his snark because it made him laugh, and he liked the way he wore tartan pyjamas even though it was really hot and- And Crowley was still talking. Now, with a fond smile on his face.

Crowley hadn't smiled very often, before. Not like this. Sam watched the curve of his lips, watched them part and purse. Then he leaned forward, and kissed the demon.

Crowley emitted a muffled "Mmf", but quickly carded a hand in Sam's hair and pulled him closer, and Sam thought he heard the other mumble "Bloody finally." against his lips.

This was another thing to like about Crowley though, Sam thought as Crowley forced the other to open his mouth a little.

He was a really awesome kisser.

—-

Sam didn't know how long they'd been kissing.

But Crowley had bitten hard on his lip and it felt so fucking _good_ and he moaned into the smaller man's mouth, leaning closer. Crowley tightened his grip a little on Sam's hair, and somehow he felt that might have been intended as a reward because that was good too.

Sam whimpered. Crowley pulled away, giving a little chuckle as he took in Sam's flushed cheeks and his heavy breathing. "Sleep now."

He frowned. "But, Crowley, I want-"

"To fuck?" and Crowley made this weird inflection and the "k", drawing it out. Sam looked away, embarrassed. He'd known he'd never been, say, fully straight, but Crowley was a demon, and…

"Why?"

"I like you." Sam mumbled, immediately. "I really do. You're wonderful and you're so nice to me and you're _attractive_ and-"

"I'm King of Hell." Sam blinked, unsure where Crowley was going. "This wouldn't be a few nights of hot sex, Sam. Lots of demons already know that I've taken you under my wing. I had to say _something_. Make sure they didn't try and… Well. Mess about."

Sam tilted his head slightly. "Now, they all expect me to fuck you. I mean, they all think I'm training you now, making sure you know how to a be a proper pet." Crowley said the word "pet" with something that sounded a bit like disgust.

"But if we do - and oh, I'd love to - there is no going back." Sam furrowed his brow. "You would be _mine."_ And Sam thought maybe he should be ashamed of the way his stomach did a little flip at that. "No girls. No boys. Just _me."_

The ex-hunter nodded. "Until the end of your days." Crowley paused. "And after, probably."

"I want that." Sam broke in. "I want you." Crowley made a frustrated growl, pulling Sam close with a rough hold in his hair.

"You don't understand, you stupid, little _boy_." Crowley hissed. "I will _own_you. I will be able to do whatever I please with you and your body, don't you see that? If I wanted to I could send you down to the racks, make you the other demons' whore."

"You wouldn't do that." Sam mumbled, unsure as to why he believed it, but he did. "No," Crowley agreed. "I'm a possessive bastard. But I'll still hurt you myself. I'll take my frustrations out on you, use you as a toy."

"I want you." Sam said again.

"Arrogant boy. _Stupid." _Crowley growled. "I will not be gentle with you." "But you won't kill me. You like me." Sam said, trying hard not to sound desperate.

Crowley paused, taken aback.

"That- that I do." The demon admitted. "Not yet." Was all he said, finally. Then, he let Sam go and rolled over, facing the other way.

Sam went to sleep. He was safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was confused.

Like, really confused.

Crowley wouldn't touch him.

Before, Crowley wouldn't touch him, say, sexually, but now, now he wouldn't touch Sam at all. And he _hated _it. He'd gotten used to curling right up to Crowley when he slept, and feeling the demon stroke through his hair, and damn it - if _Sam_ tried to initiate a kiss or a hug or something, Crowley just pushed him away.

After three weeks of it, Sam just couldn't _take_ it.

He just dropped to his knees in front of the demon and fucking _begged._

"This won't just be sex, Sam." Crowley said.

"I know, and I-"

"It'smagic, Sam. I will chant as I fuck you harder than you've ever felt in your bloody life."

Sam swallowed. Then, after a pause, he nodded.

Crowley stared. "Fine. Bed, now." Sam scrambled from his knees andranfrom the kitchen, stripping off his clothes and throwing himself onto the bed. He just wanted Crowley to touch him and like him again.

After a few minutes, Crowley came in.

Sam tried to sit up and turn to him, but the demon waved a hand and his wrists and ankles were lashed to the bed, limbs drawn up tightly. Sam shivered at that, the shudder showing in the thick muscle of his shoulders.

When Crowley moved onto the bed, he straddled Sam's hips, and the ex-hunter realised the other man was naked. He swallowed again, the sound audible in the now silent room.

Then, Crowley began to paint something onto his back, a thick liquid that didn't dry even in the warmth of the bedroom. It tickled, and at first Sam didn't realise what it was.

But then he could smell it and it was everywhere. "No!" He shook his head. "No demon blood!"

"You're not going to drink it, Sam." Crowley assured him. "I won't let you."

"Crowley-"

"Shush, now. You're safe, darling, you won't be able to drink it." Sam relaxed a little, and Crowley began to murmur quietly in a harsh language Sam hadn't heard before. The symbols Crowley had painted on his back burned, and Sam hissed and shivered again.

"Hush, you're alright, love." Crowley murmured, soothingly stroking over Sam's hip. Then there were two wet fingers teasing at his entrance and he gave a low sound, the heat of the symbols and Crowley's fingers a little too much.

Crowley pressed forward, scissoring and deftly, quickly preparing the ex-hunter.

"_Crowley." _Sam whined plaintively. "Now."

The demon huffed, half-amused, and began to press in with his cock, making Sam take in harsh breaths because_ fuck_ but he hadn't done this in a long time, not since a bit of experimentation when he'd still been at Stanford.

"G-god, Cro-" Sam yelped as Crowley tightly grasped at his hair and pulled his head back, growling into his ear.

"It's fine elsewhere, but don't you ever call out to any of the Gods in this bed." Sam whimpered, because the angle _hurt_, but Crowley didn't seem to care. "I'm fucking you. Me, only me, it will only ever be me."

Sam nodded desperately, and the demon let go of his hair, grasping at his hips again to dig in with his fingernails and fuck into Sam_ hard_, roughly, making the hunter whine and beg.

Sam made a long, drawn-out moan as Crowley dragged his cock over his prostate again and again. "G- Cr- Crow- _Sir_!" And that last bit came in the tiniest of broken whines. This was the reason he'd only been fucked the once before, because he was such a fuckingfreak. The demon stopped abruptly, balls-fucking-deep and he wouldn't move.

"What did you call me?" It was asked softly, Crowley's tone as smooth as silk, and Sam shivered.

"Sir. I'm sorry, I wo-"

"Oh, yes you will." Crowley grinned, nipping at Sam's neck. "Crowley or Sir. Got it?"

Sam wanted to laugh. And yell. And hit Crowley so he would _move_, damn it.

"Yes- yes, sir." His voice sounded tiny and weak, but he didn't get long to worry about it because then Crowley started thrusting into him again. Sam gave a tiny keen of sound as Crowley began to fist his cock, and Sam's hips bucked into it automatically.

He came not long after, but Crowley kept going. Sam was oversensitive but he still wanted more, and fuck yes, Crowley kept going.

—-

Later, Sam lay on the bed in a daze. There were bruises and scratches all over his lower back and hips, and his ass felt sore and used. The sigils Crowley'd painted onto his back were still there - they now felt thick, the skin beneath them raised up. They wouldn't come off now.

Crowley sat next to him, drinking a glass of Craig and reclining on the pillows. He didn't look nearly as tired as Sam felt, by rights, he should be. He blinked at the demon, tiredly, and Crowley offered a smile.

Sam smiled back. He crawled a little closer, so that he could rest his head on Crowley's thigh, and the demon let him, beginning to stroke through Sam's hair.

Sam let his eyes close, enjoying the feeling of sheer bliss. He was glad he'd made that first call.

—-

For the next few days, they had a lot of sex. Sam was in _Heaven._

"That's ironic." Crowley had snarked when he'd voiced the thought. But Crowley was so _good_ to him.

Eventually, Crowley said they had to go elsewhere, be nearer to where the demon worked.

Sam had been nervous about it at first, but the place was nice, really, and cut off - way off - from the rest of Hell. Crowley had placed their house (mansion, really) slap-bang in the middle of what Crowley called "administration". The administrative sector of Hell hadn't really existed at all, before Crowley had been in charge.

But the demon had a distinct liking of having paper copies of every contract, and of keeping details on every new denizen in Hell, demons and tortured souls alike.

However, Sam imagined that Crowley's own record had been "lost" and incinerated long ago.

The administrative sector was massive, ensuring that even if Sam wandered he would never stray into the areas where souls were tortured, and thus wouldn't be emotionally scarred or whatever.

The mansion itself wasn't much unlike the house Dean and Sam had first found Crowley in. It was warm, and well decorated. The rooms they used the most were Crowley's office (Sam had been fucked over Crowley's desk many times already, and Sam imagined that this corporate thing was a big kink of Crowley's), the library (Sam still loved to research, even if there was no hunting), the kitchen (Crowley could cook really well, apparently) and the living room.

The latter was a pleasant enough affair, with all-leather furniture and red walls. There was an old-fashioned drinks cabinet in the corner, with mostly just bottles of Craig, and along with a few shelves of books, there was a television.

Sam's favourite thing at the moment (perhaps other than being fucked on that magnificent piece of well-carved, mahogany artwork) was curling against Crowley's side and watching an old movie with him.

The demon had a collection of vintage films, and when there was a quiet bit in the movie, he'd stroke Sam's hair and tell him which actors had made deals, what for, and so on.

Once, that would have bothered Sam, he supposed.

Now, it didn't.

—-

Sam shivered with nervousness as he paced the room.

He wasn't so sure about this any more. He glanced at himself in the mirror.

The suit was a very dark blue, and pinstriped with silver. The buttons on the jacket were silver and well-polished so they shone in the light, and he wore a soft, grey tie to match the stripes on his suit around the collar of his white shirt.

His shoes were polished as well, and Sam had combed his hair back a bit to make himself look neater, more… professional. To top it off were a pair of rimless spectacles that were perched on the end of his nose. He didn't need them, of course - 20/20 vision_forever_ was a pretty awesome perk of being with Crowley - but they topped off the look.

He just didn't know that he had the sheer balls to do this.

But then, it'd taken a lot of work to sneak about the administrative sector until he'd found a demon that'd used to be a tailor and convince him to make Sam a suit. They all had to do what Sam said as long as it didn't conflict Crowley's orders, but convincing it not to tell Crowley had been really hard.

He had to go through with it now. Picking up the red folder he'd gotten hold of (it was empty, merely there for effect), he walked from the bedroom and down the hall.

Crowley was alone in his office.

Fuck, he hoped the demon would play along and like this.

He knocked on the door. After a pause, the King of Hell called, "Come in."

Crowley smirked when he entered the room, opening his mouth to say something. But then he faltered, taking in Sam's state of dress and the way he'd tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Sam Winchester, sir." He said in a clear, crisp tone of voice, making the demon raise his eyebrows. "Your new personal assistant."

For a moment, Crowley stared.

Then, he grinned, predatory.

"Are you, now? I was told you were arriving_ yesterday_."

"Administrative error, sir, must have been." Sam replied, feeling hot under all the layers of his suit now he realised that Crowley was going to really like this whole role-play thing.

"Oh?" Crowley stood, grinning. "Read me off what you can do then."

"You didn't read my file, sir?" Sam asked, looking down at the demon and acting like he assumed a real assistant would.

"Why should I have, when I've got the real thing here? Your abilities, please." Crowley requested sharply.

"I average eighty words a minute, sir, and can work with all manner of computers. I'm well acquainted with various filing systems," Crowley began to walk around him, examining the suit, examining_ Sam. _"And- and I'm very good in regards to corp-"

"How well can you suck a cock, Mr Winchester?"

Sam's mouth opened and closed before he managed to get back into character. "I- Sir!" He spluttered, scandalised. "I assure you I will _not-_"

"Not even if it means losing your job?" Crowley broke in silkily. Sam closed his mouth.

"I- Sir, please, don't fire me."

"Then get. On. Your. Knees." Crowley grinned.

Making himself shake slightly, Sam obeyed. He stared at Crowley's groin for a moment before reaching out to slowly unzip him.

"Good boy. Now carry on…"

Roleplaying quickly turned into one of Sam's favourite things, and Crowley's too, if Sam was judging it right. Sam soon had a selection of different suits, sets of suspenders, smart shoes, and spectacles to work with.

—-

Not all the demons were happy with the new man in charge, but by Sam's judgement, most of them were either pretty pleased or apathetic. He wandered around the administrative sector a lot when he got bored, and just chatted to various demons.

The ones here were the ones that didn't torture - after all, there were only so many that needed to be manning the racks - and Sam thought that quite a few of them were pretty okay.

He guessed he wouldn't have thought that at all, before. But y'know, he had to adapt.

The demons that were against Crowley were being tortured, as far as Sam knew. He knew that Meg was kept locked up and that Crowley occasionally went and attacked her. And he knew that every demon in the administrative sector was screened in case one of them came into contact with Sam.

As it was, though, Crowley mostly stayed within this sector. He fucked Sam, he had meetings with the head torturers and with a tall, intimidating man that he'd called Oberon.

Sam wondered if it was the _actual_ Oberon, but was always too skittish about him to ask.

All in all though, he was happy.

And, Sam had noticed, that was all that mattered to Crowley.


	3. An Issue

Christine was a very quiet demon, Sam had found. She was meek and seemed to only want to do her job.  
Sam began to go and see her everyday, trying to get her to come out of her shell, and, slowly - very, very slowly - she'd quietly greet him when he came into the office, make small talk.  
She was really nice - had made a deal because her mother had been in an accident.  
There were other demons too. Rats (Sam didn't think he wanted to ask), Mikael, Gretel...  
He came home one day to find Crowley sitting in the living room, glaring up at him.  
"Crowley? What i-"  
"Don't. Talk." The demon growled. Sam flinched at his tone. "On your knees." Sam dropped immediately, shaking.  
"Sir, what did I-"  
"I believe I told you not to talk." Sam whimpered and quietened again. Crowley snapped his fingers, and Sam's clothes were gone.  
"Here, now. Over my knee."  
Sam shivered again, but obeyed. He felt flushed and ashamed. What had he done?  
Crowley spread his legs a bit, so that Sam's cock (fuck, he was getting hard already, how fucking embarrassing, Crowley was probably thinking he was a fucking slut!)  
"Tell me what you did wrong." Sam spluttered.  
"I don't know, sir, I swear, I'm so sorry-"  
"Mikael." Crowley hissed.  
"Wh-Sir, why's h-" Sam cut off into a yelp as Crowley's hand came down and slapped his arse.  
"What do you know of him?"  
"He- he used to be a carpenter, and, um, he had a wife and-"  
"He tell you what he made a deal for?" Crowley broke in.  
"Money."  
"No." Crowley leamed over to whisper in Sam's ear, pulling his hair back slightly to do so. "He made a deal for the tall, muscular son of the next door tavernmaster to be his /slave/."  
Sam froze. "But- so-"  
"That boy lasted three months." Crowley growled.  
"I didn't know, sir." Sam mumbled. "I'm so sorry."  
Crowley sighed, petting through Sam's hair.  
"I'm sorry, love." He murmured. "Saw red. Get up now, darling." Sam stayed in a place, biting his lip a bit.  
"Sir, can you not, um, will you-" Sam dropped the sentence, embarrassed.  
"You want me to spank you still?" Crowley asked, sounding surprised.  
"I- um-"  
"Hush, now." Sam went silent, shifting and wriggling his arse invitingly. Crowley snorted.  
Then his hand came down.  
It was a flurry of swift hits. Sam's cock was hard and throbbing and small sobs were escaping him by the time Crowley stopped.  
"Come now." The demon murmured, bringing Sam up to sit on his lap and petting his hair, rocking him gently. After a time, Sam managed to stop crying, but continued to shake.  
"My good boy." Crowley purred softly. The ex-hunter smiled just slightly.  
"I love you." Sam murmured.  
Crowley hugged the other tightly to his chest, and Sam savoured the feel of the fabric against his skin.  
"And I do adore you, pet." Crowley murmured.  
Sam just grinned and closed his eyes, breathing in the subtle scent of Crowley's cologne.

Dean staggered across the ground, looking around wildly. "Cas!" He yelled. "Cas!"  
"Dean." The angel sounded calm from where he lay on the ground.  
"Cas, wh- I thought I'd lost you. What- what happened?"  
"We're back on Earth. I assume my Father was involved." He continued calmly. "Now come, Dean. Lie with me and watch the stars."  
Dean floundered. But he was tired. He was so damn /tired/. In Purgatory they'd been running constantly, dodging and hiding.  
Here... Here, they were away from all that. They were safe.  
And Cas - well. Dean dropped down next to him.  
They lay there for a while, and let himself relax. Home. They were home.  
And he'd be able to find Sammy, and Baby. And go back to normal, go back to hunting. Dean let himself smile.  
He hadn't smiled in a long time.

"Dean, he's gone." Castiel said.  
"Cas, ple-"  
"Dean, would he really have left it here otherwise?" Dean sighed.  
They'd found the Impala in Dad's old storage set.  
Dean held the key tight in his hand. "Sammy." He whispered.

Sam laughed. Mikael was gone, sent off somewhere unpleasant, no doubt. Apparently Crowley had had him before, but Lilith had but the record of another Mikael in his place when Crowley had started the system. Spies. He was checking everyone today.  
Sam walked through the office corridors at a comfortable pace, unworried. He wanted to see Christine, and there was a spring in his step as he moved.  
He held a box of doughtnuts in the one hand, and he held them up as he opened the door. He blinked at her office, and the box dropped to the floor.  
There were papers and stationary strewn across the room, and blood stained on the carpet.  
Sam ran from the room, sprinting towards the house. He stumbled on the stairs and hit his head. He grunted, dizzily standing up.  
But then there was more pain his head, sudden, and he dropped to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up sat straight up in a chair. His hands were tied tight behind his back, ankles lashed to the chair legs.

There was laughter around him, and a blindfold tight around his eyes. He struggled, giving a quiet sound. He hissed in pain as there a sudden bite of metal at his cheek.

The knives were painful. The demons - he could smell the sulphur stench in the air - wrought them across his skin, blunt and painful.

It was when they started to dig them in that he screamed. By the time they stopped his throat was torn up and painful, hoarse. But Crowley would come. He'd come, he'd get Sam. He'd be fine.

"Cas!" Dean yelled the words. "Cas, Cas, he's here, he's- he's in Wyoming, Cas!" Dean screamed, desperation showing through.

"Yes, Dean, I heard you." Castiel said, emerging from the bathroom dripping wet.

"I should dress." He said. He dried his hair as fast as he could, rapidly throwing on his clothes. Dean rushed around the room, throwing their stuff into a duffel bag.

They were in the car together within half an hour, and driving. Wyoming was a day away. They'd get there.

Sam screamed again, kicking and fighting as the demons pulled him across the floor.

"You're gonna burn." He hissed. "Crowley's gonna fu-" Another scream as a knife was pulled across his thigh.

Dean ran to the door of warehouse. It fitted. There'd been demon signs all around the area, omens, cattle dying, weird murders, storms.

Cas was on the other side of the building. It'd taken them two days to get to town, another two to find the warehouse.

The two demons there were taken down easily with a knife to the neck. Sam was in the centre of the room, still bound in the chair.

He shook, bleeding.

"Sammy!" Dean said. "Sammy, Sammy, it's me, it's Dean. It's okay, you're gonna be fine." Sam stiffened.

"Sam. Don't worry." Castiel said, now coming into the room. "You are safe."

Sam kept stiff, until Cas pulled the blindfold away. Then he relaxed. He said nothing, his attempt producing a desperate rasp.

They untied him and took him to the motel. He managed to shower on his own, and then Dean started stitching up the cuts. Sam paced the room. They'd put up warding, salt lines and sigils.

"Please." Sam had begged when Dean had torn him away from the sigil he'd tried to break.

"They've kept him hostage for a while." Dean said softly. "He thinks they're safe. Demons. He wants to go /back/."

"We'll keep him safe. He'll be alright." Castiel said, glancing to Sam's sleeping form.

They fell asleep themselves. Sam opened his eyes. He needed Crowley. He loved that Dean and Cas were alive, of course he did.

But he needed Crowley.

He tip-toed, breaking every salt line, nicking the Devil's Traps, striking through sigils.

It worked. Not an hour later, an hour of Sam rocking himself on the bed, shivering, biting his lip. The door was thrown open, and Sam swore he saw a blaze in Crowley's eyes.

Sam stood, rushing forwards and tightly grasping at Crowley.

"They- they're back from Purgatory." Crowley stared at Dean and Cas, who'd jolted awake. Both grasped at knives, Cas' his angel blade, and moved forwards, but Crowley threw them back with a powerful hand.

"He is mine." The demon hissed as Dean and Cas gave sounds of pain. "You'll not touch him, you'll not come near him."

He raised a hand as if to hurt them further, but Sam clung to him. "Want to go home."

Crowley gave a frustrated growl, setting the bed Sam had been on alight before disappearimg with Sam in his arms. Dean and Cas got the fire out.

"He's in Hell." Dean whispered. "Crowley's messed with his head, has him thinking- I don't- I-"

"I understand." Castiel murmured seriously. "We'll get him out."

And they'd try. Planning began the very next day. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sam continued to grasp Crowley in tight, well-muscled arms even when Crowley got him home, setting him down on one of the sofas in their quarters and fussing over him. He healed the open wounds, cleaning them and making sure the stitches Castiel and Dean had clumsily put in place were safely removed.  
Sam was shivering and weak, and Crowley conjured soup and watched him take it down carefully.  
"What happened?" He asked softly, watching Sam carefully.  
"Dean and C-Cas-" Sam's voice was weak and plainly forced, a hoarse note to it that implied discomfort when he spoke.  
"They did this to you?" Crowley knew that to have come back from Purgatory they probably wouldn't be completely sane, but for Dean to turn on his brother?  
"No." Crowley's breath of relief was embarrassing: no demon should feel so strongly as him about a ridiculous human boy. "D-d-demons." Sam muttered. "They took Christine too, we can't-"  
"Yes, we can." Crowley said dryly, reaching forwards and tangling a hand in Sam's hair. The gesture was mostly affectionate, but he tightened his grip and Sam gave a soft sound of submission. "We're not looking for her." He growled. "They've no doubt taken her for information about you and I." Sam's face went suddenly solemn as he stared at Crowley.  
"It will be fine. I'll put demons on it." Crowley said, and Sam's lips quirked.  
"Thank you, sir." Sam murmured, looking down and trying to hide his amusement as Crowley huffed.  
"Come, you need sleep." Sam nearly laughed as the demon eased him up and supported him into the bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam's days returned to normality after that. The- well. The relative normality of Hell, he supposed, wasn't really normal at all. Sam shifted a little, sprawling on the sofa. Through the open door, he could see Crowley working in his office. The demon had been very stressed, as of recent, and at the moment was scowling at the pile of reports on his desk.

Sam worried a little about him, but whenever he asked Crowley would brush him off with a little irritation or try to distract him with anything under the sun. Sam stepped off the bed. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but remained in just pyjama pants.

He took a few steps forwards, toward the doorway. "Sir?" Crowley looked up, a little wide-eyed. He calmed soon enough, closing the mouth he'd had open. "What are you doing?"

"Just reading through a few reports." Crowley said quietly. "Incidents up top, demonic issues." He murmured. It was vague enough that Sam worried a little, and he moved further into the office. He stayed in the doorway, faltering nervously for a few moments. Then, he took a few steps forwards. Crowley waved a hand, turning the chair he sat at into a two-person bench, letting Sam press against him.

Sam didn't make any effort to look at the reports – he'd already learned that they were never in English – but settled against the demon and laid his head on the other's shoulder. He didn't fall asleep at Crowley's desk like this very often, but now he did. When he woke up, there was a thin blanket over his body and his neck was sore from the position Crowley had lowered him into to leave him alone.

Sam sat up slowly, rolling his neck and soothing out some of the tension. "Crowley?" He called, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He stood, moving back into the bedroom and pulling on a shirt and some real pants. He padded through the house, perplexed. Crowley hadn't mentioned a meeting that day…

There was a sudden crash from the dining room and Sam ran to see, and then stopped stockstill in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise and worry.

"Sam!" And shit, Christine was there and Sam was flooded with relief, taking a dash forwards and catching her as she stumbled and took a slight fall. "They were gonna kill me, Sam, your brother got me out!"

Sam nodded, supporting her. "Dean's here?"

"He and that angel, they both are, they brought me back!" Sam nodded, the oddest of smiles quirking at his lip. Dean had done _that._

"Get away from her, Sam." Crowley was in the doorway all of a sudden, his eyes flaming with the protective fury that Sam knew all too well by now.

"No, Crowley, it's okay, she's-"

"Shut up, Sammy, the grown-ups are talking." Sam went stockstill at the sudden knife at his neck, unable to move with the woman's demonic strength holding him in place. Sam felt betrayal, anxiety, terror and anger all at once, and met Crowley's eyes.

Crowley just gave him a slow nod as a signal. Sam slammed his elbow into Christine's stomach, winding her and allowing him to grab the knife before stumbling back and away from her.

"Oh, _Sammy_, don'tcha wanna be friends anymore?" Christine was grinning, and Sam just spat at her. He stayed where he was, not wanting to get closer yet in case she grabbed him again.

"Clever, that is." Crowley commented, his arms crossed as he watched the lower demon with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed expression. "What was the plan, hmm? Kill my boy and take advantage while I'm compromised?" Crowley asked in a low, dangerous purr. He didn't look pleased at all, his lip curled in something resembling disgust.

"I thought the angel housed our Lord." Christine said simply, giving a little shrug. "No dice. Wrong lead, but I'm sure I'll find a way to release Him from his bonds."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't." Crowley returned easily, giving a little smirk. Crowley through the demon against the wall, and Sam turned his head and looked away as Crowley waved a hand. Christine was little more than bloody liquid, and Crowley gave a growl as he left the room.

Dean and Cas were just making their way into the big house, and Sam didn't think when he saw the gun in Dean's hand and threw himself forward. He stood in front of Crowley, splaying his body a little so Crowley couldn't be hit. "It's not the Colt, Sam, don't worry." The demon said quietly, but Sam stayed there anyway.

"Christine's dead. What the _Hell,_ you're trying to raise Lucifer?"

"What?" Dean stared at him. "Sammy, we're trying to get _you._"

"You don't need to get me. I'm staying here." Dean shook his head, his eyes a little wide and scared in a way that made Sam's stomach roll over with guilt and unhappiness.

"Sammy, he's brainwashed you, you can't-"

"I can, Dean. I will." Castiel looked between Sam and Crowley, and Sam thought he saw understanding flash in his eyes for a moment. But then Crowley waved a hand and knocked both of them out, quick as he thought about it.

They were gone now. Castiel and Dean were back up top, hunting together. Crowley had wiped their memories, convinced Dean that Sam had died but had died peacefully. It made Sam sad, sometimes, to think about the fact that his brother could forget about him, but now he'd be happier, right? He'd just be so much happier.

Sam looked up from his book, watching Crowley where he sprawled across one of the sofas, his tie loosened as he laid his head on the arm and watched some cooking show with a droop to his eyelids.

And Sam was happier, really. As long as he was with Crowley and his brother was happy… That was perfect.

_This_ was perfect.


End file.
